Shattered Faith
by Ginny3
Summary: Post Ep for A Magical Place. In the hours after his rescue, Agent Phil Coulson struggles with his physical injuries as well as the beating his faith, beliefs and sense of reality have taken. Takes place in the same "universe" as Things Aren't Always so Magical at Midnight in which Phil realized that May knew what happened to him after he "died".
1. Chapter 1

**Shattered Faith**

_Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (KJV)_

_Hebrews 11:1_

* * *

Disclaimers-there are many, many things I don't own, including Marvels Agents of SHIELD, the movie Bull Durham or the King James Bible.

* * *

When May was sure Coulson was indeed alive and in fairly good shape considering, she went out to help secure the scene with Ward. She left Sky with Coulson, not that she would have been able to tear the young hacker away from him if she tried. Phil did nod a little in response when May told him she was going out to check on things and would be right back. She smiled, patted his hand and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before turning to leave.

"Can you send Jemma in?" he asked quietly as May moved towards the door. She just nodded and turned towards the front door.

Phil was still on the stretcher but he had managed to sit up. He was staring at his shoes, not saying much of anything. Sky was at a loss as to what to do so she hopped up and just sat next to him.

Before Simmons could arrive, Phil suddenly muttered as he slid off the stretcher. "I need some air." He staggered out into the hall, heading for the door. It took a few seconds for Sky to realize what was happening and to follow him. He stumbled out the front door and down the steps. He sat down on the ground leaning back against a crooked fence post. The breeze felt good on his face and he just tried to concentrate on breathing deeply. As hard as he tried, it just wasn't working. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking despite the warmth of the sun.

Sky stayed on the front porch, getting the sense that he needed a minute alone.

Simmons came around the corner of the building and looked at Sky, who just pointed in the direction of where Phil was sitting. Jemma half walked/half ran towards him.

"Agent Coulson…sir," Jemma said quietly as she crouched down next to him placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Phil," he absently corrected without looking in her direction.

"Ok, Phil," Jemma said with a small laugh. "What can I do for you?" she asked. Out in the middle of the desert she felt pretty helpless. She took a cursory look at him and wasn't real happy with what she saw. His face was pretty beat up. Although she didn't see any active bleeding, she wanted to be able to clean him up as soon as possible.

"I don't know. I can't think. I'm cold," he whispered as he shivered a little despite being out in the sun, which was just beginning to set. He looked up at Simmons and unsuccessfully tried to give her a smile. Instead the tears started. He let them just stream down his face, not bothering to even try and wipe them away. That made tears well up in Jemma's eyes too. She sat down on the ground and put her arm around him, pulling him close. She pressed her hand to his cheek, not surprised to find he was pretty warm. She added fever to the list of things she needed to address in the comfort of the plane. Jemma heard footsteps to her left and turned to see Sky walking towards her with a blanket she'd grabbed out of their vehicle.

"Sit up a little," Jemma said as she took the blanket from Sky and wrapped it around him. Phil pulled his knees up and dropped his head down. "See if you can find some water," she said to Sky as she moved to kneel in front of Phil to see if he would let her get a good look at him. "Can you tip your head up a little?" Jemma asked quietly.

Phi did as he was asked. There was dried blood under his nose and around his right eye but as she noted earlier, he didn't seem to be actively bleeding. Sky appeared with a bottle of water and a towel she found in the car. She knelt down on Phil's other side and held his hands still while Jemma did what she could to wipe the blood away and get a quick look at his injuries. Without instruments and supplies there wasn't much she could do where she was. The fact that he was responding and was basically coherent made her feel slightly better but she wasn't going to be happy until she was on the BUS with everything she needed to do a proper examination.

"See if you can drink a little," Jemma suggested as she handed him the water bottle. Phil drank a little and handed the bottle back.

"They gave me water," he said quietly, assuring Jemma that she didn't need to add "dehydration" to his growing list of things which needed attention…soon.

Ward, May and Fitz appeared a few minutes later, having secured the scene.

"So, shall we make our way back to the plane? I can't very well do anything out here in the middle of nowhere," Jemma said as she stood up. All could hear the growing frustration in her voice.

"Yeah, we're done here," May said as she held out her hand to help Phil to his feet. He got up and just stood still for a few seconds, getting his bearings before he started to walk towards the SUV. Jemma walked next to him while Sky ran back into the building to just take a quick look to see if she could find his suit jacket and anything else he might have left behind.

Phil carefully climbed in behind the driver's seat with Jemma sliding in next to him. After some debating over who was going to drive, Ward got behind the wheel and May took the passenger's seat. Fitz and Sky climbed in and they set off.

Nobody said a word. All were filled with questions for their leader, but no one was brave enough to ask anything. Ten minutes into the silent ride, Phil was sound asleep.

Jemma kept a close eye on him as he curled up, head on her shoulder. She carefully reached to check his pulse without waking him. May turned in her seat to check on him. "A bit too fast for my liking," Jemma whispered, answering May's unspoken question.

"Step on the gas or I'm going to take over," May muttered to Ward.

After what seemed like a journey of a thousand miles, Ward pulled the vehicle into the cargo bay, next to Lola.

Everyone climbed out but Coulson and Jemma. Agent Hand and her minions started towards them but were quickly stopped by Ward, May, Fitz and Sky.

"Whatever you need, it can wait," May spit out as they all stopped in front of their guests, arms crossed presenting a human barricade to protect their beloved leader.

Agent Hand nodded in agreement. "We'll be in the command center," she replied quietly.

"Let Simmons take care of him," May said as she held up her hand to Sky who was heading back to the SUV. Sky made no effort to hide her disappointment but May didn't care all that much. They headed inside, readying the plane to take off.

"Well, sir, I don't know about you, but I am quite ready to get out of this vehicle," Jemma teased as she climbed over Phil's legs and stepped out into the now quiet cargo bay.

"Don't call me...oh I give up," Phil chuckled as he allowed Jemma to take his hand and help him out. Slowly they crossed the cargo bay.

"I'm going to grab some things and meet you in your quarters, okay?" Jemma said as they stepped inside. Phil nodded. When she was sure he was steady enough to handle the stairs she headed to get her medical bag and some other supplies.

After taking his time on the circular stairs Phil opened his door, never so happy to see all his "things". He stepped in, planning on heading for the bathroom but realizing quickly he was going to end up crumpled on the floor if he tried to go too far. He managed to make it to the couch, collapsing with his head back, staring at the ceiling.

That was where Jemma found him a few minutes later.

"Okay let's get a better look at you," she said a little nervously as she turned on all the lights so she could work. Phil moaned and squinted a little at the light, which in truth wasn't really all that bright. "Sorry, it will just be for a minute," Jemma assured him. "Do you want me to call someone to come in?" she asked. "Agent May or Sky?"

"No, I'm sure May is trying to get us off the ground quickly and Sky will just hover," Phil said quietly. He was so unsure of what he wanted or needed at that very moment.

"True," Jemma said with a small laugh. She helped him out of his tattered dress shirt before wrapping the blood pressure cuff arm his left arm. At the beep she glanced at the high but fully expected reading. She jotted down the numbers on small pad with the SHIELD logo. She checked his pulse which was a little slower than it had been in the car. Rummaging through her bag she looked for the thermometer as Phil toed off his shoes. "Turn your head," Jemma said as she stuck the probe in his left ear. Five seconds later she frowned at the result.

"Fever?" Phil asked, not surprised given how crappy he felt at that moment.

"100.1," Jemma stated as she put the thermometer away. "I'll give you something in a minute to bring that down. Obviously I've seen your face, any other injuries I should know about?"

Phil took a minute to actually do a quick inventory of how he was feeling. "Just a little battered and bruised, I think. And a massive headache," he admitted. "I need to…" he said as he motioned towards the bathroom.

"Of course, give a yell when you're done, I need the light in there to really get your face cleaned up," Jemma said as she helped to him his feet.

Phil used the bathroom and washed his hands, carefully avoiding glancing in the mirror. He had yet to see his face and didn't really want to do so until Jemma had assessed the situation and cleaned him up.

"You can come in," he called out. He put the toilet lid down and took a seat.

Without much conversation Jemma gently cleaned his face. She came to the conclusion that nothing needed to be stitched up and was fairly confident he wouldn't be left with any noticeable scars. "Do you want to shower before I put some antibiotic ointment on your face?" Jemma asked.

"More than anything I would like a hot shower," Phil admitted with a laugh.

"Alrighty then. After that I would like you to lie down and get some rest," she announced as she reached into the cabinet and rooted around for the bottle of Advil.

Phil just shook his head, a little too vigorously he quickly realized as the room started to spin. Jemma gave a little unladylike snort as she guided his head down a little. She rubbed his back as he put his head between his knees.

"I need to get dressed and go downstairs to reassure everyone that I'm fine," Phil whispered a minute later when he was sure he wasn't about to pass out or throw up.

"Even if you're not fine, sir," Jemma said carefully, adding the "sir" to make sure he knew she was serious about her suggestion.

"Yes," he answered simply as he took the pills and water she handed him. He swallowed the pills and carefully stood up. "Can you send May in?"

"Certainly," Jemma answered, quickly realizing she wasn't going to change his mind. "I will leave the ointment on the counter, she can help you with it."

"Thank you, for everything…again," Phil said quietly as he grabbed her hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it before letting her go.

TBC

* * *

Feedback is always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Shattered Faith**

Chapter 2

Thanks so much for the feedback, favorites and follows.

A big apology to Skye for leaving the "e" off the end of her name in chapter 1!

* * *

Phil turned on the water to let it warm up while he got undressed. He stepped out of his now ruined suit pants and his plaid boxers. He pulled off his t-shirt and tossed everything out into the bedroom. As he stepped under the stream he heard May call his name.

"Shower," he yelled back, unnecessarily.

"Could have figured that," May shot back as she entered his bedroom.

She picked up the clothes he'd taken off, pulled the belt free and checked the pants pockets before throwing the clothes in the trash. She took a deep breath before knocking lightly on the door to the bathroom.

"It's open," Phil yelled over the stream.

May tentatively opened the door and peeked her head in. The shower door was frosted, it wasn't like she was going to see anything. She took a seat on the closed toilet lid, staring straight ahead.

"Are you going to say anything?" Phil asked as he reached for the shampoo.

"I don't know what to say," she answered honestly. She had no idea what he'd gone through, what he'd learned, how he'd been hurt, no idea at all.

"Then for now, you don't have to say anything. Just listen while I ramble."

"Okay," May agreed.

"That machine you saw on the stretcher, it made me remember things. Or start to remember things. Some things don't make sense. I need answers. I deserve answers. Weeks ago, when I had that nightmare and you confessed that you knew what happened to me I wasn't surprised. But do you know why things happened? Why certainly decisions were made?"

"Some, not all," May answered simply.

"I don't know that I want answers from you. I'm just so…things are just so…so…"

"Different," May said more to herself than to Phil.

"Yeah," Phil agreed.

"My offer to tell you everything I know still stands. But it has to be up to you."

"I don't know what the hell I want, or need, or think, or believe in," Phil all but yelled, his voice cracking, breaking May's heart.

She glanced at the shower, he was all but huddled in the corner of the small stall.

"Are you done in there?" May asked as she grabbed a towel for him.

"Yeah."

She reached in and turned the water off before handing him the towel. "I'll be out here, take your time," she said quietly without really looking at him.

"May," Phil whispered as he wrapped the towel around his waist. "Look at me."

She reluctantly turned around, trying to will back the tears she felt threatening at the corners of her eyes. The sight of his scar and his battered face was enough to send the tears flowing down her cheeks. Something which rarely happened.

The sight May, his best friend and the strongest person he knew, standing there with tears streaming down his face was enough to start Phil's tears all over again. She turned and left the bathroom without a word. Phil quickly dried off and pulled on his plaid flannel robe, following her back out into the bedroom.

He found May curled up in the overstuffed chair in the corner. Knees pulled up, arms around her shins she was clearing trying her best to just curl up into a ball. Phil sat down on the arm of the chair and pulled his own bare feet up next to May's boots.

"We are quite the pathetic pair right now, aren't we?" Phil said with a small snort as he wiped away some of his tears before reaching out to do the same to May's.

"You have a reason," May whispered.

"We all have a reason," Phil added.

"What are you going to do? I know Simmons wants you to rest but I know you have no intention of doing that right now," she added before he had a chance to protest.

"I'm going to shave, put on a clean suit and go meet with everyone. They need to see I'm in one piece. I need to see Raina and check in with Agent Hand. And get the the hell off my plane. Are we scheduled to take off any time soon?"

"Not that I know of, why?

"I want you to find out where I might be able to find Dr. Streiten. I think he has some answers for me," Phil answered as he slipped off the chair and headed back to the bathroom to shave. "And pick out a suit for me," he called over his shoulder as he closed the door.

May chuckled and got out of the chair, crossing the room to his closet. Upon first glance all the suits seemed to be one of three colors, black, gray or navy. Put upon closer look there were subtle differences, some pinstriped, some faint plaids. May picked out her favorite, a charcoal gray with faint blue pinstripes. She grabbed a white shirt and a coordinating tie, one she'd given him for Christmas a few years earlier. She pulled out a pair of argyle socks, an undershirt and his beloved Captain America boxers.

* * *

With Agent Hand, her minions and most importantly Raina off the plane Phil started to relax for the first time in almost 4 days. He'd met briefly with his team, making Skye's day by removing her monitoring bracelet.

With everyone back to work, or at least leaving him alone, Phil headed for the galley suddenly realizing he was starving. He made himself a grilled cheese sandwich and some chicken noodle soup in complete silence and privacy. He ate while catching up on the events of the last few days on his laptop.

"We're heading to LA, prepare for takeoff," came May's voice over the intercom.

"Guess she found the good doctor," Phil muttered to himself.

"Mission in LA?" Fitz asked as he stuck his head into the galley.

"Personal issue, we won't be there long. No time to rub elbows with the rich and famous I'm afraid," Phil stated. "Let the rest of the team know what's going on."

"Yes, sir," Fitz answered as he headed back down the hall.

* * *

"Sir…Phil I really don't think you should be driving, especially not in the dark with no sleep," Simmons declared as Phil prepared to open the cargo bay door and back Lola out.

Phil sighed, deep down he knew she was right and he'd been waiting for her to stop him from doing it.

"I'll drive," Skye announced as she ran across the wide expanse of the cargo bay.

"Fine," Phil said, caving in. "But no speeding and no questions." He tossed a rather triumphant looking Skye the keys and walked to the passenger's side, sliding in with a grumpy look on his face.

She backed the car out and turned away from the plane. "So where are we going AC?" she asked.

"I'm going to talk to someone," he said cryptically. To her credit, Skye took the hint and didn't press him any further. She followed his directions and in half an hour they pulled up to a non-descript medical arts building in the outskirts of LA. "Wait here," Phil ordered as he opened the door.

"Should I be on the lookout for anything?" Skye asked excitedly.

"Sure, keep an eye out for aliens," Phil snorted as he walked away.

"Wait, what, aliens? Come on AC knock it off," she whined.

Not ten minutes later Phil silently climbed back in the car. Looking more broken than he had before he said nothing on the drive back to the plane.

Skye had barely put Lola into park before he was out of the car and halfway up the stairs heading for his quarters.

May watched the scene unfold from the observation window over the cargo bay. She found Ward, told him to take over the cockpit and get them off the ground. Where they were going didn't matter she just wanted to be in the air as soon as possible.

TBC

As always, feedback is always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Shattered Faith

Chapter 3

Once again thanks for the feedback and suggestions.

* * *

With the plane safely in the air May stopped by the bar, grabbed a bottle of Scotch and headed to find Phil.

May found him curled up in bed sound asleep. Fully dressed except for his suit jacket, he didn't look exactly comfortable. She set the bottle aside, seeing no need for it at the moment. Carefully she pulled his shoes off, loosened his tie a little and unclipped his phone from his belt. He woke up a little, enough to follow May's suggestion that he get under the covers. She perched on the edge of the bed and pressed her hand to his forehead finding him still running a fever. "Want me to stay?" she asked. Phil just nodded a little and closed his eyes, giving in to his utter exhaustion.

Curled up in the chair in the corner May read for a while, something she rarely had time to do. Phil slept restlessly, which was the norm for him since his "death". She resisted the urge to get up and check on him each time he rolled over or muttered in his sleep.

About an hour and a half into their flight May startled awake when she heard a soft knock on the door to Phil's office. She hadn't planned on falling asleep and it took a few seconds to get her bearings. She tossed aside the afghan and padded to the door. She found Simmons and Skye standing there. It was clear by the look on Jemma's face that Skye had just tagged along.

"How's AC?" Skye asked as she slid past Simmons took a step towards the door intent on just pushing her way into the office. May sidestepped to block the doorway, stopping the young hackers efforts.

"Sleeping. When he wakes up I will tell him you came to check on him," May said sharply. Although she had gained some respect for Skye during the past 12 or so hours, she still found her rather grating in large doses. "You come in," she said pointing towards Simmons.

"Certainly, thank you," she said as she slipped in while May closed the door leaving Skye to huff and puff in her annoyance.

"Still not Skye's biggest fan, I see," Simmons smirked as she tossed her medical bag on the desk. "Is he really sleeping?"

"He was a minute ago. You can check on him. I'm going to go see if Ward needs anything and make some tea. Call if he needs anything."

* * *

Simmons crept in the room as Phil rolled over.

"May?" he whispered.

"No, it's Jemma. May just stepped out, I can call her back," she offered as she walked over to the bed.

"No, that's okay. What time is it?" Phil asked as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Uh, about midnight, west coast time, I think," Jemma answered glancing at her watch trying to remember what time zone it was actually set for.

"Guess I slept for a couple of hours, I think, maybe, I have no idea," he admitted.

"It's okay," Jemma assured him. "No matter how long you've slept, you didn't get nearly the amount of sleep you require right now. But since you're awake, sort of, how about we talk for a minute?"

"Sure," Phil said with a smile as she reached to turn the bedside lamp on.

"Seriously, you're sleeping in a shirt and tie, sir?" Jemma teased.

"Hey, I managed to take off my shoes and suit jacket, that was an accomplishment."

Jemma just arched an eyebrow and shook her head as she laughed a little. Phil fumbled a little trying to loosen the tie enough to pull it over his head but got caught up when he realized he was wearing a shirt with a button down collar. Jemma moved his hands out of the way and got the tie off and unbuttoned the shirt, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that he was wearing an undershirt.

"I need to…" Phil started to say as he hitched his thumb in the direction of the bathroom.

"You may want to put some pajamas on while you're in there…sir," Jemma said, suddenly a little uneasy when she realized she'd just started to undress her boss. "I have my bag in the other room; I'm just going to grab it. May went to make tea, would you like some? Have you eaten anything?" she called from the office.

"Tea would be nice and yes, I ate something earlier."

"Good, good," Jemma replied.

She used to intercom to track May down and ask her to bring some tea for Phil. She declined some for herself, figuring both her and May hovering over Phil would just drive him nuts. She also correctly thought that May and Phil needed to have a long, involved and private conversation.

Jemma stayed with Phil until May arrived. He let her check his vitals, pulse and blood pressure were almost back to normal but he was still running a slight fever. "How's your head?" Jemma asked.

"Hurts."

Phil allowed her to take a quick look in his eyes with the penlight. He figured just letting her do what she felt necessary was his best course of action. Truth was me really appreciated her concern and her expertise.

"Have to say I am a little concerned about your fever. Anything else bothering you? Ears, throat anything?"

"Not really, other than the fact that my face keeps throbbing in time with my heartbeat," Phil chuckled. "And May never put this on," Phil said as he pulled the tube of ointment out of the chest pocket of his pajamas.

"Fever could be from some infection brewing from your facial injuries, some virus you picked up along the way, any number of things really," Jemma rambled as she carefully applied the antibiotic ointment to Phil's face.

"Could be any of those things I suppose," Phil said wryly. "You know I trust you completely, I'll do whatever you think I need to do, take whatever you think I should.

"Let's try some Tylenol and see if that helps. If not, I have some wonderful broad spectrum antibiotics which should knock out whatever is causing your fever."

Much to Jemma's relief, May came back soon after she'd finished checking Phil out. She'd given him some Tylenol and a strong suggestion that he sleep for at least 8 hours.

"Eight hours," May snorted, knowing that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Phil confirmed her feeling that he had no intention of crawling back into bed by heading for his office. He started to sit down at the desk but May just gave him a glare, letting him know there was no way she was going to let him do anything remotely related to work.

He gave a big roll of his eyes but went to curl up on the couch with his tea.

"You didn't sleep for long or very well," May said carefully. She had yet to get a good read on how he was feeling at that very moment. Physically she could tell he still felt like crap, he was pale and the circles under his eyes were growing by the hour, not to mention his eye looked pretty painful. Emotionally he tended to be harder to read but she usually did okay, but right then and there, May had no idea if she should expect tears, anger, questions, no idea at all.

She sipped her own tea, giving him time to get his thoughts together and decide what he wanted to do. Perfectly willing to talk, sit quietly or leave him alone completely, May wanted the decision to be his and his alone.

Phil put his tea aside and scrubbed his hands down his face in an effort to clear his head. "Would you understand if I asked for some time alone?" he whispered without looking at May.

"Phillip, short of wanting to jump out of this plane without a parachute, I would understand just about anything you want to do right now," May said simply as she stood up to leave. She once again pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"You know, that's becoming a habit," he teased as he pointed to his forehead.

"Live with it," May snorted as she turned to leave. Phil chuckled as the door closed behind her.

For a second he thought about working on some of the reports his kidnapping and rescue had surely generated. But there were cameras everywhere on the plane, even his office and if he had to bet, May was at that minute turning on the feed so she could keep an eye on him. He stayed on the couch, head back, lost in his thoughts.

He wanted to have a long conversation with May but really had no idea where to start. It was like in the past 48 hours his faith had been shattered. Faith in SHIELD, in his superiors, in the difference between right and wrong and ultimately his faith in God.

* * *

Few people knew that Phil Coulson was a man of deep faith. He often struggled with that faith in the growing uncertainty of the world around him, particularly after the Battle of New York, for obvious reasons.

Although he was baptized Roman Catholic as an infant, Phil's immediate family wasn't particularly religious but every Catholic family in Boston in the 1960's had their children baptized.

When he was 6 his materal grandfather died of lung cancer and his grandmother moved in with them. Margaret Murphy was a woman of deep faith. Attending mass daily at St. Stephen's she took her curious grandson with her when she could. It was there he came to love the ritual of mass, the smell of the incense, the cadence of the responses, the solemn experience of communion and the beautiful sounds of the choir and the word of God.

Phil made his First Holy Communion when he was in the second grade. Dressed in his first suit ever, hair carefully combed, rosary in his pocket he felt a connection with God deeper than the rest of the children in his class, he was sure of that.

He continued his faith journey throughout his middle school and high school years. He became an altar boy, serving the first early morning Mass on Sunday was his favorite. There was never a fight between the altar boys for that Mass, most of them were out late Saturday and had no desire to get up before dawn, even to serve the Lord.

Through good times as well as bad Phil's faith remained strong. When he joined SHIELD he got used to attending Mass when he could, wherever he was. He'd been to some of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world as well as some of the smallest, humblest churches one could ever imagine.

After his "death" he questioned his faith, who wouldn't do that, he told himself. His attendance at Mass became more infrequent but the thoughts about his late grandmother increased. He carried a picture of the two of them in his wallet and visited her grave whenever he was in Boston. She was the "glue" that had held his faith and beliefs together, and she was long gone, having died the month after Phil graduated high school. To say he missed her was an understatement. Not a day went by that he didn't think about her.

* * *

The call of nature brought Phil out of his thoughts. He got up to use the bathroom, finding himself more stiff than he had anticipated and he nearly took a header into his desk. He came back into the office and sat down at the desk. He thought for a minute and pulled open the bottom left hand drawer. Rooting around for a minute he pulled out a small box and placed it on the desk. He took a deep breath and pulled the lid off revealing a small black velvet bag. He loosened the strings and tipped the bag to let the rosary beads spill out into his hand. It was the rosary given to him by his grandmother on the day of his First Holy Communion. It was no longer shiny and new, but the beads were still a beautiful blue, "as blue as your eyes, Phillip" his grandmother had said when she gave them to him.

In the silence of his office, Phil did something he hadn't done in way too long. He crossed himself and started to recite the words he'd learned long ago.

Hail Mary,  
Full of Grace,  
The Lord is with thee.  
Blessed art thou among women,  
and blessed is the fruit  
of thy womb, Jesus.  
Holy Mary,  
Mother of God,  
pray for us sinners now,  
and at the hour of death.

Amen.

When he was done he wiped the tears from his eyes, put the rosary in the bag and took it into his bedroom. He put the bag in the nightstand and wandered around the room for a minute. The bottle of Scotch on his dresser caught his eye and he took it into the office and poured himself a glass. He gave a silent toast to the memory of his grandmother before taking a sip.


	4. Chapter 4

**Shattered Faith**

**Chapter 4**

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and followed. Your kind words and encouragement were very much appreciated.

Disclaimer-in addition to the things I didn't own in chapter 1, I also don't own The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, King Arthur or Winnie the Pooh.

* * *

Thanks to a glass of Scotch and some soothing cello music Phil was more relaxed that he had been in over 4 days. He'd gotten his thoughts in some semblance of order and he was ready to talk to May. He hoped at 3 AM she was still awake. He should have known better. She was knocking on the door to his office a mere minute and a half after he'd called her on the intercom.

"Found the bottle, I see," she teased as she entered the room a little more nervous than she had anticipated. Like Phil she had spent the previous couple of hours getting her own thoughts together.

"Want some?" he offered as he reached for the second glass he'd put on the desk a minute earlier. May just nodded and curled up in the corner of the couch. Phil poured her a glass and refilled his before curling up on the opposite end of the couch. He reached to turn off the lamp on the end table, leaving the room lit only by the desk lamp.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the haunting sounds of the cello music Phil still had planning in the background.

"Is this Liz playing?" May eventually asked.

"Yes," Phil answered quietly and simply. By his one word answer he made it clear he was not quite ready to talk about Liz. He was having a hard time dealing with what Raina had told him about Liz and her reaction to his "death".

"What did you know?" Phil asked as he swirled the Scotch in the glass before taking a sip.

"I knew lots of things Phil. What in particular do you want to know? Ask me anything, you certainly have that right. I owe you that much," May said quietly.

"It's not about owing me anything, Mel," Phil whispered back using his long-standing nickname for her.

"You haven't called me that in a very long time."

"I know. Did you know what they did to me, to keep me alive or in that place between life and death for so long? When I met with Dr. Streiten he told me they'd done seven surgeries. Do you know what kind of surgeries they were exactly?"

"I knew there were multiple surgeries but I didn't know how many. There were at least three to repair the damage caused by Loki. But as you can imagine there were complications stemming from the sheer magnitude of the wound. Blood loss, shock, neurological issues all came in to play. But not being a medical professional I really can't speak to specifics. Maybe Jemma can help you with that."

"Did you see me at all?"

"I saw you a few days later, after you'd had about 3 surgeries, mainly to repair the damage from the stabbing. You were being kept alive by machines. I remember just sitting with you and holding your hand. You were so cold and you were so pale, like there wasn't enough blood in your body."

"I don't remember it," Phil said.

"You wouldn't, you were so heavily medicated at the time."

"I guess when they were able to stabilize me enough that they were sure I would live they started to worry about the long term effects on my mental well-being. Did you know that they operated on my brain to change my memories, that Tahiti was just a memory implanted in me? That I've never been to Tahiti in my life."

"Yes," May choked out. "I know you begged them to let you die. You begged me to let you die but it wasn't my decision," she whispered.

That admission did shock Phil but he understood. There was a code that every SHIELD agent lived by. You didn't question your superiors and when something was kept from you, it was for a reason.

"Why, why wouldn't Fury just let me go? Why save me? I apparently WANTED TO DIE! Why go to such lengths to save me and then erase my horrific memories just to replace them with pleasant ones?" Phil cried out.

"Because you're Agent Phillip J. Coulson and your life was more than worth the effort. You are more valuable to SHIELD than you will ever know," May explained. "Thanks to the machine you were able to get some of those memories back, even the horrible ones. Are you better off knowing what they tried to hide from you? I don't know. That's something only you can answer. I imagine that since you've started to recover some memories that over time you will remember more, even without the machine."

"I don't know if I want to. Part of me wishes I hadn't relaxed and let the machine work. I was blissfully unaware and maybe that was better for me. I don't know. I don't know what to believe. There's a real blurry line between reality and not right now."

May reached to take Phil's glass from him and motioned for him to scoot over. He was reluctant to move over, knowing the second he let his guard down and let himself be comforted his brave, stoic exterior would just crumble away. But he wasn't ready to do that. There will still questions lingering. So instead of moving over he took the glass back from May and stood up to pour himself some more Scotch.

As he picked up the bottle he looked towards May, wondering how much she was going to let him have. She tended to cut him off after 2-3 drinks.

"Phil, you have every right to get completely plastered right now. I'm not going to stop you, nor am I going to join you," she added with a laugh. "One of us has to be in charge of the team. It's enough that I let Ward fly the plane, he's not taking over our team completely. And I'll even hold your head when you're hanging over the toilet moaning tomorrow."

At her mention of his head Phil stopped mid-sip and put the glass down. His hands went to his hair trying to feel for a scar from the brain surgery.

"Plastic surgery, I doubt you'll be able to feel anything," May said, answering his unanswered question.

"Of course, the finest SHIELD surgeons operated on me," Phil snorted.

"Only the best for you," May said with a smile.

"How about the beautiful physical therapist with the less than stellar command of the English language? Phil asked, smiling at the memory.

"Well, I thought the physical therapist was beautiful, he was built a little like Thor," May teased as she got up and crossed the room to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge behind the desk. Phil just groaned. He wandered around the room as May sat down in his desk chair, propping her feet up on the dark walnut surface.

"Mel, please, the boots," Phil whined. She dropped her feet down, pulled off her boots and put her feet back up. "Thank you," he muttered.

As Phil continued his pacing the music stopped, sending the room into complete silence, except for his footsteps and a few seconds later, his heavy breathing. May had a good feeling what his next question would be about.

"Who told Liz?" he asked carefully avoiding looking at May.

"I did. We…Fury and I, thought it would be better if someone she knew told her. I did it in person. As you know she had been in New York for a concert the week everything happened. It wasn't hard to track her down. I told her before the news of your death became public knowledge. She asked to view your body but at that point you were in surgery and that wasn't possible. I don't remember what excuse we gave but she didn't press the issue. Fury sent her a note, handwritten, by the way, expressing the condolences of SHIELD. We kept an eye on her for a few weeks, low key surveillance, just to make sure she was okay. She missed a few concerts and then rejoined the symphony about two weeks later when they returned to Portland."

"Raina knew things about Liz and I, or rather I suppose it's the clairvoyant who knew those things. She told me Liz cried for days. More than anything I wish she could know the truth. It wasn't fair to her," he said with a small sob. May held her hand out to him but he ignored the gesture again, still not ready to completely and utterly break down. Phil clumsily swiped at his eyes, the effects of too much Scotch, too little food and too little sleep were starting to catch up with him. "Why? Why can't people know I'm alive? What's the point, I don't get it," Phil all but yelled.

The tone of his voice and the fact that he was basically questioning the actions of SHIELD got May out of the chair and over to him in a flash. While she was sure he questioned things in his own mind, Phillip Coulson did not question the decisions of SHIELD out loud, ever.

She grabbed his hands. Phil put up a bit of a half hearted fight but gave in rather quickly. May sat down on the edge of his desk, pulling him close, not letting his hands go. He stood in between her knees, looking down at their clasped hands.

"I deserve answers," Phil whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. "I had faith in the way things were supposed to work, faith in the "system". I had my beliefs. And now everything is different. I don't know what I believe, where to put my faith."

"Phil you have more faith than any man I know," May whispered. Phil just shook his head in disagreement. "What is faith?" she asked him, trying to keep him talking, trying to keep him from completely shutting down.

"The substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen," he said quickly. "Nana Margaret taught me that," he said with a small choking sound.

"Come here," May whispered as she pulled him into a hug before he could protest. He started to shake and she wondered how long he would remain upright. The tears he'd been holding in for hours let loose. After a few minutes, when he showed no sign of calming down, May led him back to the couch and just held him. There were no words she could say that would make things better, she didn't even try.

"Phil you're going to make yourself sick. Try to calm down a little," May suggested about ten minutes later when she was seconds away from calling Jemma for back up. He took a few halting breaths and was finally able to start to calm himself.

"I deserve to know it all, the good, the bad and the ugly."

May just chuckled a little at his statement.

"What could possibly be funny right now?" he asked curiously.

"When you get drunk you start quoting movies."

"I do not and that was a movie title, not a quote," he protested weakly.

"Whatever you say. Now that you've calmed down a little, I will be right back. I need caffeine," May announced as she smoothed his hair down and stood up.

"Get me some too."

"No way am I getting you caffeine. You are wired enough right now. Walk around a little. And yes, you do deserve to know everything, the good, bad and ugly."

* * *

While May was gone Phil took her suggestion and wandered around his office and bedroom. He took another large mouthful of Scotch and splashed some water on his face.

"Substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen," he repeated to himself. "The King James bible, not a movie quote." he snorted. "Faith…beliefs…what are two things I don't understand anymore," Phil muttered as he nearly stumbled into the dresser. "Without faith, without belief in something, what are we?" Phil mumbled under his breath. "Damn it, that's from King Arthur."

Apparently May was right.

Another lap around the bedroom followed by a quick glance at the news on his laptop and the only thing Phil managed to do was to add to his headache by reading without his glasses. Of course downing the last of the Scotch didn't help the situation. As he stood up he realized he was at least a drink or two past sober.

He turned the music back on and turned off the desk lamp plunging the room into almost complete darkness, except for the thin beam of light from the bathroom. He curled up on the couch, hugging the throw pillow to his chest. To his surprise he had no more tears. He just felt empty and hollow.

May came back in a few minutes later with a can of Coke for herself and a can of ginger ale for Phil. In the dark of the room she wasn't quite sure if he was awake or not. She knelt next to the couch and tentatively reached to rub his back. Phil smiled at the gesture. He was quiet for a minute and she knew him well enough to know he was getting his thoughts in order, trying to decide where to take the conversation next.

"I don't know what to believe," he whispered.

"You think SHIELD is lying to you, that I'm lying to you?" May asked, picking her words carefully.

"No, no. I guess I don't know what to believe in. The "system" which seems to have failed me completely, the code of SHIELD, or something else."

"Off the top of your head what do you believe in?" May pressed.

"Well, I believe in the soul. The small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing AstroTurf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days," Phil blurted out with a big laugh.

"Seriously, you're drunk, you can barely keep your eyes open right now and yet you can quote Crash Davis' I Believe speech from Bull Durham?" May teased.

"What can I say, I'm special."

"That you are, Phillip Coulson," May agreed as she gently cupped his cheek. "By the way, you left out a little bit of that speech."

"Yeah, but Nana Margaret taught me to watch my language around women."

"Seriously, what do you believe in?"

"I honestly don't know how to answer that. I wish I did. I'm not trying to be a smart ass but I'm just still confused. I believe in myself, in our team, but beyond that, right now, I don't know. I wish it did."

"I know you do. In the days to come I think things are going to stay pretty confusing. You're going to be searching for answers and I don't know how easy it is going to be to find them. I don't know if you'll find what you're long for."

"I'm afraid I won't find the answers,' Phil admitted with a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Almost 5:00. Think you can get some sleep?"

"Yeah. Help me up," he asked as he sat up carefully as the room started to spin just a little. May helped him up and they slowly made their way back to his bedroom. He sat down on the edge and kicked off his slippers.

"Drink a little of this," May suggested as she handed him the can of ginger ale. She pressed her hand to his forehead to check his temperature. "I'll get some Tylenol, you're still pretty warm."

Five minutes later Phil had taken some Tylenol, had some ginger ale and was curled up in bed.

"I'm going to go back to my room, okay?" May asked as she pulled the covers up a bit, essentially tucking him in.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks Mel, for everything."

"You're welcome. And here's a quote for you… You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes," May answered. She brushed back his hair and kissed his forehead before turning to leave.

"Hey Mel?" Phil called. May stopped at the doorway and turned around. "You know I love you, right?"

"I do know that. Love you too, Phillip."


End file.
